Irregularity
by Impervious Marr
Summary: Tomorrow, the day would be raining. RussiaAmerica, modern times. Oneshot.


They were serving either coffee, tea, or vodka. They were having one of them, or perhaps even both at a time; when the Russian Federation lifted his vodka and poured it into a tea cup, swirling both of them with a teaspoon in a rather careless manner; the serene look on his face and the way his left index finger twitched. The cup clinked.

The French Republic wanted his wine; _Nihon-koku _sipped his green tea calmly.

The weather outside was quite usual and the relations (_the tensions)_ were all quite the same. It wasn't quite silent; just quiet chatter making up most of the background music of the room. Very spacious, very large, a little to the stuffy side for some, maybe airy for most.

The United States of America interlaced his fingers, and the corner of his mouth _curled_, and the skin around his eyes _crinkled_; he smiled, teeth showing. The Devil's Grin for most. Whatever America meant, _it would mean whatever he wanted._

The Child's Play for one. Whatever America meant, _it would mean close to nothing to him._

The Normality for one. Whatever America meant, _it was normal for him._

But the gaze wasn't directed to anyone in particular, and the smile wasn't one of his ruthless optimism. It was dreamy; almost surreal in how it was utterly incompatible with the usual conviction the others usually found in him (at times, an unwelcome conviction, at times, their own hope). The energy, for once, wasn't burning the rest as much as it used to. It wasn't burning them at all.

A muted sun.

The America they knew at the moment, though, wouldn't last long _it was never like that._ They didn't breach the subject because they wanted him to be needed only when they needed him. And now he wasn't.

And now he was calm. _The America we know now won't last long._ They took what they could - the ones in the Summit, the ones out.

The Devil's Grin flickered and America sipped on his Triple Shot, closing his eyes, mouthing the words to dis app ear. The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland places his fingers on the book and pages through it with an average speed.

Russia, with his ignorance for everything else, notices America dreaming dreams. His thumb would twitch, and the Federal Republic of Germany would start.

But he would still notice America forming words unspoken.

x

The relations were all the same as the sky will always be blue.

x

The prolonged calm gives the others the breathing space they need. Wary and reluctant as they were about the quiet century, nevertheless their joints starts to relax. The Italian Republic wishes for wine for his brother.

America starts to look away from the table and towards the second window to the right, with the look the Swiss Confederation uses at times when he is looking at conflicts or peace. The others are unconcerned. (It never lasts long.)

Russia still notices America forming words, and UK looks up from his novel to throw France a dirty look shared between dearest of rivals. UK glances at America, frowning momentarily before sighing in exasperation when America flashes him Normality.

The Child's Play that Russia sees _flickers_ into something he doesn't think he's ever seen or remembers being on America - except in visions he could only imagine during their shared coldest season. But that was a short while ago. He files this away in spite of his ignorance, and names it the Irregularity.

Today, Canada starts.

x

America flashes his Devil's Grin as he starts, but still the Child's Play flickers in Russia's eyes. _Still._UK was starting to notice, and he narrows his eyes at the former colony, but America never mouths the words he does when UK is looking, because there were secrets they shared, and there were secrets they never knew about.

_Still._

Italy asks if America would like to stay over his house for a few days, and America gives him Irregularity. As perceptive as he was, Italy doesn't notice that it wasn't the usual Devil's Grin, and so he settles back into the wary and reluctant silence. Japan bites back a curse when the tea he drinks spills slightly onto his hand and wipes it off with great dignity and slight humiliation.

UK still frowns.

France would still like his wine.

Russia stirs his vodka and America dreams dreams.

x

The second window to the right shows a sky as blue as always.

The relations were quite not right today.

x

Today, Japan would start. He flips through his notes and thinks of what to say. America sits in between UK and _beside_ Russia, who was idly stirring his preferred drink. He wonders how horrible coffee would taste like when mixed with vodka, and he looks to America's untouched mug. America was still looking at the second window to the right, but motions Japan to continue with a jerky hand movement. (It's been done so many times before.)

Canada looks at his brother almost sadly, and Russia, who is selfless, gives his silence and files all these away. They should call him considerate.

America taps the table with his fingers, and takes a light sip of his Double Shot, before looking again, and this time, the unrest grows. The silence has been prolonged. (_It doesn't last long.)_ Japan sighs quietly and starts with his calming voice.

Even from the proximity, Russia could not see America's eyes, but his pretty, full mouth curls: dis a pp e ar.

x

UK wants to decide, but he is looking at America opposite of him, and Russia opposite of him. The picture of togetherness tastes bitter in his throat; he shakes it away - they were getting along (?), and at least it would mean that a (nuclear) disaster would be far from their minds. UK decides that the Normality wouldn't be normal anymore. He accepts the flickering.

_get away from him_

He notices America forming the letter 'd' with his mouth, and narrows his eyes.

"What're you mumbling about?"

America smiles a Normality. It doesn't flicker. It soothes UK, but unsettles him by the way America is so quick to be careless in the presence of a former enemy _Russia, Russia, Russia._

"Disappear, of course! Sometimes I really gotta say it to myself before I can spell it out. I guess the habit just doesn't go away."

The others weren't there yet, so there was no cause for humiliation at not even being able to spell the word right, but Russia catches the scrawl on America's papers, and he could see no recent words that start with a 'd'.

x

Tomorrow, the day would be raining.

x

"Where the bloody hell is he?" UK asks, again, for the fourth time, and Canada looks at him helplessly, and UK strains his voice and Canada breathes in, out, _in, out._ Italy didn't seem to take it personally, he was supposed to start today, but Germany still murmurs to him. Russia swirls his vodka in the bottle instead of the cup. France closes his eyes. "Your brother does realize he's late by an hour and a half?"

"He's not here," Russia spoke, for the first time, in a long time of silence - the chill settles, the pit of UK's stomach start to crumble - he feels uncomfortable.

"Quite the observation, Ivan. Now if you would tell me where he was, that would be much appreciated."

Russia smiles.

"Let him be for the day." Russia closes his eyes, and there was a slight unrest among the ranks - Russia smiles wider. "He'll come back on his own."

"Damn it, he has obligations and not the time to take a day off, more so when he doesn't tell any one of -" UK pauses, France rubs the spot in between his forehead, there was _rage._ "Why didn't you tell me, Ivan?"

"He can keep secrets of his own."

The pain was searing hot, like a poker dragged through hot lava. UK didn't mean to let Russia see him shrink back. Japan clears his throat.

"Alfred-san wouldn't be absent without a very good reason, yes? Even if he is one of the youngest amongst all of us, he can think clearly for himself and others. If he had something to talk about, I'm sure he would have," he rationalizes slowly, and the others start to take their seats. Italy murmurs back to Germany - the country sighs.

Italy starts. He tries not to feel it personally, that America wasn't there for his time.

x

The skies used to be blue.

x

"Where _were __**you!**__"_

Unadulterated rage. America sighs, putting his hands up in defense while France looks away and Canada holds his fingers nervously.

"I was called off by my boss at last minute -"

"Then why didn't you call?"

"- seriously urgent business and everything looked like a mess. It's all sorted out though."

_why won't you tell me_

"It's really nothing that serious, Arth. So, you know... I didn't really want you to worry about it. I'm **sorry**."

A familliar pain sears up and jams UK's throat, and he looks away before things get too personal. Japan's tea cup rattles in its place, while Italy goes through the doors, clutching a bottle of the highest quality wine. France gives his younger brother a thankful look, before pouring it into his glass and giving it a test.

"_Parfait,"_ he murmurs, sipping it gently, and starts.

x

Ivan strolls through the corridors and sees Arthur; he smirks, leans down;

"_Goodbye;"_

He walks.

Arthur's hands shake.

x

The relations used to be the same.

x

Today the sky weeps.

x

"Where the hell is he - you know where he is - how the - what the _**fuck **_did you do to him, Ivan Braginsky!"

"Calm down, Arthur. It's not - it's not the time. Alfred's probably taking a walk -"

"Taking a walk when he's supposed to be here?"

"You can say he is rather selfish," Francis supplies unhelpfully, and Arthur doesn't look away from Ivan, who seems unconcerned. Arthur looks torn. He cannot - he cannot - he was supposed to start today. Maybe it's a bit too personal. Maybe it had everything and nothing to do with America spacing in, out, _in._ Maybe it had all the things to do with Ivan Braginsky, swirling his vodka with a peaceful, kind expression on his face; such emulation of false security; Arthur is sick.

Today, Arthur refuses to start. Germany sighs, and takes over, while Italy looks ahead out the window where America used to look.

x

Arthur remembers **sorry**, but why not him? Why _not _him?

x

America is so silent.

x

Time is a standstill, while Russia speeds up - and in those years where America ceases to exist, he speeds, and speeds, and dashes towards the throne.

x

The others murmur; it lasts long, after all.

They look for America -

They find nothing.

X

X

x

America was sitting in _America's _house. His own, and everyone else's.

Alfred looks through the second window to the right, and ignores Ivan staring at him through the doorway on the opposite side of the room. He extends a hand out anyway when Ivan closes the distance between them, up until they were separated by only six inches; and Ivan nearly bites his fingers - and Alfred needs to chuckle at the sight. His eyes close. He could smell the slight scent of vodka on Ivan and the emptiness of the room.

"Why're you always the first one to know? I didn't even have to tell you."

"Because in every moment of my life, all I had to do was observe and take everything in as it is." Ivan watches as Alfred's eyelids flutter slightly, he frowns; so typical; Alfred extends his ungloved fingers to almost touch the older nation's face and Ivan reaches out in time to catch one of them in between his teeth. He licks it slightly and lets it go, and Alfred wants to sigh. "It's easy to tell."

"I've gone batshit crazy, haven't I?"

"Oh, I wouldn't exactly say that. You were already teetering on the edge of sanity, no? During our time together."

Alfred makes a face, and Ivan suddenly remembers how young the nation really was. It was inconceivable that the world would place all their hopes and all their ridicule on his shoulders -

"You make it sound as if we were going out. And _no, _Ivan, don't get any ideas."

"Call me Vanya," Ivan teased, and Alfred suddenly remembers how childish the older nation could be. Up to the point of annoyance. Alfred snorts, and leans against the window he was looking through earlier; quite heavily. _Vanya_sinks his head down to nuzzle Alfred's neck but America is too tired to resist with a disparaging remark, or a blow to Ivan's face. Russia feels cool against his skin, and he knows he seems hot against Ivan's.

"Aren't you ever tired? God; not even a century and my bones are screaming."

"I'm not the hope of the world, as selfless as I am. While you, America..."

Alfred chuckles slightly at the (compliment). "_Alfred._ You wanna go back to old times then? You and me, you know? I'm tired of being lonely."

"Da, very much. But then you would seem to be the hero."

"Hey, come on. I'm pretty much on every swear word heard on the east side and the next. What's there to be proud about?" America looks up, and Alfred makes a slight noise of protest when Ivan's lips brush against his neck. "So we're _both _heroes - Ivan - _**Ivan.**_"

Ivan doesn't pause, but America does not pull him away.

_what changed?_

Russia rolls his eyes languidly when America's hands sink into his hair, and tugs quite violently. So he stops, and simply breathes against Alfred's pink skin.

"How flattering. Called a hero by the hero himself."

"Well, I mean it," Alfred murmured earnestly. The atmosphere of the room was so lazy and calm that it was hard to tell they were enemies from long ago.

_what changed?_

"Now tell me," Russia starts calmly, pressing a light kiss against Alfred even when he protests -

**"Why am I indulging you in this, Alfred F. Jones?"**

The rain outside stops.

"Because you're a selfish bastard," Alfred responds lethargically, "Because I'm as selfish as you - I only want you to indulge me."

_what changed?_

Russia laughs, looks up into Alfred's eyes - bright, unwavering with an exhaustion mirrored in himself - an exhaustion of having seen too much in so little. But his eyes shine. Ivan couldn't resist cupping Alfred's face with one of his hands, gazing deeply into them - like a look shared between two lovers - a complete paradox.

"And what makes you think I want the chance to become a definite equal again?"

Alfred never breaks the gaze. He gives a slight smirk, the glint in his eyes shift, _sharper;_ his hair feels soft against Ivan's touch; and he opens his mouth slightly, his lips moist and his tongue a beautiful pink, and he leans in, joining their lips slowly - the motion so simple, so complex -

So warm.

Ivan cannot resist. He _cannot._

x

x

x

He speeds.

x

Alfred emerges from Ivan's house.

The others know nothing.

x

The relations are not the same, the tensions are different, the sky is blue as always. Arthur weeps, and Alfred is quick to comfort him, even when Arthur refuses to speak to him; the familiar pain, the scars from when America became America, throbs the way it does when America disappeared; when time was a standstill in those few years past.

Alfred murmurs sorry, over and over again, he is in the wrong for taking his deserved break, for disappearing.

The others; they blame America, they blame themselves partly. Russia smiles kindly behind his new status, the new Superpower. But he says nothing of why he becomes so, and so quickly.

Alfred and Ivan become the heroes again, one for the West, one for the East. The Second Cold War begins, with an added heat equivalent to the chill.

x

Alfred sits on his throne, and watches as Ivan is already beside him, sharing his seat - they share a look, a touch, a soft, _soft _kiss/burn/chill. They'll share the world from then on till it crumbles away in time, burning in their reign as they steer it towards the beginning of all's end.

_in our hands __**s l o w l y**_

x

x

x

a/n: changed a few parts at the end but it's pretty much unaltered other than that. if you wanna see the original feel free to look in my livejournal. i've had this for a while but i didn't feel like posting it up in ff net until now. thanks for reading, please review. it's nice to know what people think about it.

references to - g8 summits, when the nations 'start', they're hosting the summit.

_devil's grin_, _normality_, and _child's play _are all nicknames for america's so called smile/grin, everyone else sees the DG, arthur sees N, russia sees CP

irregularity, he doesn't smile _right_


End file.
